Crimes of passion are always a mistake and the reason is quite simple: they restore no power to the murderer.
While setting up the room in which she plans to kill her husband, a woman confesses to her accomplice, “my only regret is that he’ll never know that I killed him.” The film is Diabolique.
Sometimes, however, a victim does acknowledge his own death. This was the case with Bernardo Jaramillo, a communist militant who ran for President of Colombia. One morning in 1990, at the airport with his wife, Bernardo was shot several times by paramilitary hitmen. As the assassins escaped, he serenely sought for his partner’s gaze:
– Hold me, those motherfuckers have killed me.

Your words on Dutch sobriety sounded strange; oh delicious bunches,
peaches and
apples, vegetable and fish – although they are called naturalistic, aren’t they
metaphysics?
Well, of course they are – here it is the idea of bunch, the idea of apple, etc. Everything lights up by itself in
a the perfect style of Rembrandt…
I don’t deny the moment of self-illumination in these still lifes; but, in
contrast
with Rembrandt, these fruit and vegetable seem to have a right relationship with the
world:
there’s something of the icon painting in it, this is the work of the light.

pretty much everything with the word black means something negative.
Is this racist? someone asked.
Well, I hink the racist act was not in coining these notions, but in assigning the terms “black” – with its figurative meanings of dark, strange and other, and “white” – with its figurative meanings of known, seen and light, to groups of people whose skin is “brown” or “cream” respectively.

If I take the time to look at one of the objects in my studio, this time exists in relation to that object as a mix of past, present and future focused on the object’s location and the light which ensures that I can see the object at all. I’m not sure why, but it irritated me that all these relationships co-existed while I was making the object. After all, I’m working on an object, and not on light, time, present, past and future. I needed to isolate all these ingredients so that I could get closer to the actual object. After looking at my object for a long while, I discovered that the now does not exist, because the now has already gone while you sit there thinking about it. Nor is there a relationship between the now and the object. Which means that there is not a clock in the
world that runs synchronously with actual time, except for one that has stopped – the only type to give the exact time twice a day. So at which moment is there an opportunity for me to see the object? After looking again for a long time, I slowly realised that in order to see the now, you constantly rebuild it on your retina. On a smaller scale, we do the same thing with words and meanings. Because we have collectively agreed that ‘mug’ is the word for a mug, and not ‘sulpt’. So virtually everything is subject to collective agreements. I think that you also do this physically and mentally with the things you see. So as soon as light falls on the object, it allows me to see it, and I recognise the work time and time again, as fast as separate film frames that are played in rapid succession so that you get a fluent confirmation, or a rapid disappearance of doubt. But suppose I were able to look, at the speed of light, at my object: in that case I would actually find myself in the now and experience the object. So that was the problem. For me, this disparity between my speed and the speed of light means that I can’t see the object in the present – I’m too slow for this – but actually in a constant pre- absence of the future. Now that I have calibrated my viewing rhythm to the object, I can finally understand what I saw, and when I saw it, in the pre-absence of the future. With these new insights, I could once again view the works and objects in my studio and see how I could use to my advantage the combination of this phenomenon with light. Now I still had to find forms that allowed me to isolate or extend light from time, or extract an after-image from it. When I will have made a few more works, I will deal with this matter in more detail.

On January 19th, 2010, I reached the summit of Aconcagua in Argentina, 6.962 meters.

I was looking for some wisdom in this period, and was hoping to find some at the summit. I had heard stories like “if you make it to the summit, you realise it’s all worth it” and “you climb up a boy and you come down a man”.

After two weeks of pain and suffering, we finally reached the summit. Besides being completely exhausted I didn’t feel anything.

When I visited the place I found myself in front of a massive building perfectly preserved, with a large room in the raised part that once served as a dormitory for soldiers guarding the City. I immediately thought of recreating a similar situation where, instead of soldiers, were going to spend the night not only the valiant exhibitions visitors, always willing to discover new experiences, but also the assorted group of curious people that represents the current version of the picaros, the beggars, the storytellers, the mendicant friars of the seventeenth century.

Depressed Earth
The older you get, the more life becomes miserable, all the people you grow up with die, your parents die, your grandparents die, your dog dies, your energy diminishes, there’s less books to read, there’s no more groups to discover, you just end up a barren wasteland, trying to discover something new, which never really occurs. You end finding worth in groups which 2 or 3 years ago you would have spat on, which I do all the time, its depressing, I mean, I am getting into Buffalo Springfield, which is a nightmare.
Richey Edwards

Beneath the Silures’ feet the Carboniferous swamps, mud, sediment and organic matter, compressed over millions of years, turned into high quality anthracite coal. This valuable dark artery runs serpentine from Spain under the Bay of Biscay to Britain and across the Atlantic to Pennsylvania. The subterranean horizontal passage of solidified carbon sludge is an ominous harbinger of the tumultuous binds that link the peoples and the social institutions born out of its exploitation. On the golden sands of Langland Bay, 2,500 years ago… a Silurian child is building sand castles and knocking them down.

The Cyclops:
Binocular vision is the combination of visual impulses from two separate eyes that enable three-dimensional perception. The Cyclops has a single oculus, and thus inhabits a two-dimensional world, where the conditioning of a three-dimensional awareness occurs through a learned feeling for things. Sensorial sight is then re-informed as a haptic encounter. The focused stare anticipates touch to reify the visual field.

On occasion of The Blank Benefit 2016, annual meeting to support the association’s network activities, Riccardo Beretta has realized a series of fifty velvet hand embroidered tapestries, realized as a unique thanks to a pictorial intervention and to a manual making process.
Each work, Arazzetto GQ, pays homage to the figure of Giacomo Quarenghi (1744 – 1817), in concomitance with the celebrations for the death bicentenary.
During the Benefit Dinner, planned on Thursday 15th December in the frame of Spazio ALT, a harpsichordist will present a repertoire of musical pieces referable to the historical period of Quarenghi, playing the harpsichord Birba (2009 – 2011), an instrument which is also an artwork, realized by Riccardo Beretta.

FATMA BUCAK, THERE MAY BE DOUBTS, 2015, FROM THE SERIES A STUDY OF EIGHT LANDSCAPE, DIGITAL ARCHIVIAL PIGMENT PRINT, 110×140 cm

Varna 1951

And here we leave as we came
good-bye brother sea
I take with me a little of your gravel
a little of your light blue salt
a little of your infinity
a little bit of your light
and of your unhappiness.
You were able to tell us many things
about your destiny as sea
here we are with a little more hope
here we are with a little more wisdom
and we leave as we came
goodbye brother sea